


Payday 8: The Last Kawaii

by knives4cash



Category: PAYDAY (Video Games)
Genre: OF, Parody, The Last Jedi - Freeform, not minecraft
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-02-07
Updated: 2018-02-07
Packaged: 2019-03-14 21:34:20
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,507
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/13598841
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/knives4cash/pseuds/knives4cash
Summary: Starring: Kawaii-chan. Co-starring: Dallas, Hoxton, and Sokol.





	Payday 8: The Last Kawaii

**Author's Note:**

> If you know me in real life, I specifically told you to not read this, because you're not caught up on all of the "Star Wars" films! Massive spoilers ahead!

Shoving the very last office chair up against the pile of furniture, Dallas announced, “That’s it! That’s as big of a barricade as we can make!”

“Fuck!” Hoxton spat, bashing a bank teller's nose in with the stock of his rifle. “Then we’ve got nothing left to do but wait for those fuckers to come in here and-”

“Blyat, would you shad up!” Sokol begged as he turned to their last partner. “What is da plan, comrade?!” 

All turned to their fourth teammate, who encouraged such action on their part from the start. With the alleyway too narrow to amass cops, and the windows covered by snipers, the only way out was through the barricaded front door. 

Their fourth teammate smiled, grinning ear to ear. 

All four looked to the ceiling, the roaring hum of a helicopter motor making itself known to all. 

Captain Winters orbited the scene. After countless heists, they were finally cornered. He knew it to be true. “Let’s finish this,” he firmly grumbled in a rough tone. Raising his walkie talkie, he ordered, “RPG, hit the front door. Let them know we’re here to sell some fucking justice.” 

“But sir, what about the heist attack on the hostages?” 

“I said... open... fire,” he politely repeated. At least, he thought he was being polite.

The rocket man opened fire, as per his order, and the entire barricade went up in smoke. Desks shattered into splinters, metal broke apart and turned iron hot, and the path was clear. Captain Winters finally had his chance. 

“All units!” Taking a deep breath, he barked, “Advance!” 

Inside the bank, Sokol shook pieces of shredded paper out of his hair. “Blyat! Nyet spasibo, nyet!” 

“Okay, master planner!” Hoxton shouted over the shrieking of his ten hostage who were still conscious or in one piece. “You got us into this mess! We were promised a fucking miracle! So if you don’t start walkin’ on water real fuckin’ soon, you’re gonna be walkin’ on blood! What’s the fucking plan?!” 

Their fourth teammate shook her head and chuckled. Strutting forward, she ignored all of the floating debris that gently sailed through the breeze, a chilly autumn morning in downtown. She reached the heaving and huffing Hoxton and flicked the nose of his mask. “Tch!” was all she said.

Stunned and enraged, Hoxton let off a series of swears to her before he fell silent, along with Dallas and Sokol. Even the hostages looked up to see the fourth girl, her purple and blue hair swaying in the breeze, walk slowly and dramatically towards the blown-open entrance of the bank. She stepped into the ring of fire.

At an even five feet tall, she was hardly imposing, yet Captain Winters ordered a halt to the advance when he saw her emerge from the smoking entrance of the bank. 

She stepped out of the bank and crossed the dusty sidewalk. With the road blocked off by the fifty cop cars, she was walking into a crescent of cops pointing guns at her.

She stopped at the edge of the sidewalk. 

Captain Winters leaned forward, gazing out into the open from his helicopter. Raising his walkie talkie, he slowly ordered, “I want every gun we have... to fire on that woman...” He looked down at his men. “Do it.” 

The man who had over three hundred excessive force complaints piled up on his desk aimed his assault rifle at the little woman’s head and squeezed off one round. 

The bullet shattered the girl’s mask, paint particles and plastic chips flying every which way. 

Thirty snipers, sixty cops, forty taser men, and fifteen cloakers proceeded to unload their handguns, rifles, shotguns, grenades, all in a barrage of ear-ringing symphony orchestra to Captain Winters’ ears.

“More... more!” he demanded from his police force, and not just the men, but the women and teenagers too. 

It was only when everyone used up their ammunition did he relax, taking a much needed breath. At long last, one of those sons of bitches was dead. Now, all that remained was to finish off the other three. 

“Sir!” the helicopter pilot shouted.

Winters jumped up and looked out the window. Down below, the dust cleared. The little woman stood tall and proud, not a scratch on her. 

“I’m going down. Bring me right in front of her,” he ordered.

“Yes, sir!” the pilot immediately obeyed. 

The helicopter hovered over the scene, and Captain Winters grappled down. “Did you come back to surrender?!” he mocked. 

The woman shook her head. 

“I’m sure you will!” he screamed back. “Your teammates will die! The heists are over! And when I kill you... I will have killed the first criminal! And the rest of you will fall before me!” 

 

The short woman picked a piece of shrapnel off of her school uniform, flicking it into the wind. “Subarashi,” she muttered. “Anata ga chodo itta koto no subete no kotoba wa machigatte ita.” 

Shrieking, Captain Winters charged at the little girl, raising his shield above his head and striking her square in the face. Unfortunately for him, this was easy mode for her. 

The girl didn’t even flinch. 

Captain Winters dropped his mangled shield, eyes twitching as he stepped away. 

Inside the bank, everyone watched on with shock and awe. 

Breasts bouncing in the breeze, the girl spread her legs apart just a bit.

“Blyat!” Sokol shouted. “Look away, comrades!” he ordered as he squeezed his eyes shut, burying his head into the lap of the most attractive hostage. “Dis was Kawaii-chan’s plan!”

Though they were curious, Dallas and Hoxton looked away. 

Raising her hands outwards and above her head, the short girl felt a stronger breeze blow through the street. It was strong enough to lift her short skirt upwards, revealing her panties to all of them. And not just the men, but the women, and young graduated cadets too. 

And just as it had started, the breeze died down, and her skirt returned to normal. 

There was a long, dramatic pause. No one was sure what had just happened. 

Sweating, Captain Winters wiped his brow, then his face. He felt especially wet under his nose as he smeared his hand across his lips. Looking down at his hand, he saw blood. 

Then he saw more blood drip into his hand, like a pebble had been dropped into a pond. 

The blood kept coming.

Every police officer, sniper, taser man, and cloaker wiped their noses or snorted, realizing that they too were getting nose bleeds.

Captain Winters began to yell orders, but his voice gave out in a throaty cough, and he spat out more blood. Struggling to breathe, he pinched his nose closed as the blood kept gushing. 

People with rifles took a hand off the trigger to hold their noses. Many reached for tissues in their squad cars or handkerchiefs from their pockets. Some even remembered their training and held their heads upward. 

But the blood kept coming.

Soon, everyone began coughing. Handkerchiefs soaked through, tissues dissolved, cloakers took off their helmets and let loose all of the blood that had pooled up. Everyone was coughing up cups of blood. 

Those who were feint of heart collapsed to their knees, scratching at their faces, desperate to stop the bleeding. But the bleeding didn’t stop. Snipers dropped their rifles entirely, hacking and wheezing for air. Cops fell to the pavement. Cloakers chose to die like badasses and said nothing. 

Taser men resorted to using their mothers’ personally embroidered handkerchiefs, but they failed to stop it too.

The blood kept coming. 

“No...” All around him, Captain Winters watched his men, women, and younglings too, fall face-first onto the roadside. Growing faint, he sat down. At last, the girl was taller than him. All he could do was gurgle as he began to drown in his own blood, his lungs helpless in the fight. Face red with shame and blood, he fell onto his back, quietly gargling to himself. 

“O ai shimashou, kodomo,” the girl muttered, staring Captain Winters square in the bloody eyes. 

Captain Winters finally retreated, barely escaping death.

The girl, exhausted, slowly sat down on the pavement. Gallons of blood poured forth towards the drain behind her, and so she was soaked in the blood of her enemies. 

Dallas, Hoxton, and Sokol had taken the opportunity to retreat to their getaway van. As they piled in with their cash, Sokol stopped and looked back to the bank. Though he couldn’t physically see the girl, he was Russian and thus had the closest relationship to her. Because Russia is right next to Japan.

The girl looked up into the sky and swore she saw the rising sun, its golden rays glistening through the sakura trees. She could almost smell their cherry blossoms. 

Satisfied, the girl finally timed out, her bag of cash falling to the ground. 

Inside their van, Sokol announced, “Kawaii-chan is gone. I felt it. Dere was no pain... just peace... and purpose.”

Hoxton looked to the Russian. “I didn’t feel shit.”


End file.
